


(Not So) Brotherly Dispute

by Control_Room



Series: The W-lly Franks Twins [6]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: (Referenced) - Freeform, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Arguments about depression, Bittersweet, Depression, F/F, Family, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, TW: cutting, admission of problems, angry shawn, angry wally, brothers getting into fights, eh, heavy theme discused, i’m outta here, little gay in the middle, overworked and overstressed willy, pranks gone wrong, twins fighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-22
Updated: 2018-05-22
Packaged: 2019-05-08 19:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14700390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: Wally’s mad at Willy, and punishes him by making him do the bulk of the labor and more. Willy explains his brother’s behavior to Shawn, who is not impressed. Moreover, Wally tricks Willy one step (pun intended) too far, and Shawn is very, very mad.





	(Not So) Brotherly Dispute

Two days after Willy had asked Shawn to the dance, he and his brother found themselves in a heated argument. The two brother’s bickering was able to be heard from the far end of the parking lot. Well, more of one brother yelling and the other quietly responding. As they got out of the truck, it became apparent that Wally was the yeller, and Willy seemed to want to sink into the ground. Anger was clearly written across all of Wally, his clenched fists, his arched brows, his enraged flush, and his volume enunciated his fury. Willy mutely walked to the studio as Wally followed him, berating him in a holler. Willy kept his head down, focusing intently on the concrete. Unlike every other day, Willy’s sleeves were rolled down, his curly hair more disheveled than usual. Some of the workers expected their debate to cease after they entered the building, but they were incredibly wrong. If anything, Wally got louder, and Willy’s tone became fainter. As the twins neared the lounge area, Wally’s speech was more clear.

“How could you do something like that!?” he yelled. “Things were finally starting to look up! But no, you had to go and screw everything over! What did you think you’d accomplish?! Huh?! Anything?! Answer me right now, Wilbur! Why did you do that!?”

“I don’t know,” came the hushed reply. “C-can you stop ranting at me, Wallace? I’m tired, I want to go and do my job. Can we drop the issue? For now, at least?”

“No we cannot ‘drop the issue’!” Wally exploded. Willy winced, as did everyone in hearing range. Wally and Willy entered the pub room, and everyone in there was silent. Willy grabbed a cup of coffee and began to head out, when Wally grabbed him on the arm, and Willy shouted out in surprise (or was that pain?). Wally yanked him around to face him, face hard and seething. Willy merely looked back, no anger, but only an uneasy apprehension. Not one person made a single sound, not even Shawn, who stared, dumbfounded. Somewhere, a drop of ink fell. Willy pulled his arm out of Wally’s grasp with exasperation and a look of firm defiance. “You want to play it like this, huh? Well, fine! Don’t come crying to me later, when you’re. Still. Bottling. Up. Your. PROBLEMS!”

“Okay,” Willy simply answered, beginning to walk up the steps. Anger flared in Wally’s eyes, and he snatched Willy’s suspender, jerking him back, forcing his scalding coffee all over his arms. He flinched as it burned him, and a snarl was on Wally’s face as he went up the steps himself, stomping the whole way. Willy sighed, brushed off the other’s questions, and continued on his way, coffee having stained his sleeves. “Okay.”

———————

Everyone could easily agree Willy’s day was a living Hell. Every five minute there was an ink spill, or a jam, or a paper shredding mishap. Wally’s bored voice constantly ushered Willy from one place to another over the walkie talkie system, and in every place he went, Wally was leaning against a wall leisurely, or slinking away from the area with a pleased expressing to see Willy working. Whenever there was any problems, the mess spelled out ‘WHY DID YOU DO IT?’, and Willy had to admit, cleaning the floor of ink was the most annoying and degrading. And he never rolled up his sleeves as he worked, despite having to drown himself in soapy water repeatedly throughout the whole of the day. Eventually, after four and a half long, tedious, and tiring hours Willy let out a content sigh, as he was going to spend his lunch break with his dear Shawn. As he began the descent down to the Heavenly Toys department, Wally called him up to the floor above the one he was already on, so Willy decided to go and take care of that mess first. That was what he explained to Shawn as to why he was late for lunch. Shawn shook his head in disapproval as they walked to the moving shelves to go to Shawn’s hidden alcove.

“Wally’s being a fe*king moron, he is,” Shawn grumbled to Willy, cutting off Willy’s probable justification for his brother, “Don’t deny it, he’s being a real jerk today. I bet at least half of those problems were caused by him out of spite.”

“Y-yeah, he’s been… frustrating today,” Willy stutteringly admitted, watching Shawn sit on the end of the chaise lounge, resting his head on his hands. Willy turned away, leaning against one of the support beams, looking down at the toy factory. “B-but! That doesn’t mean that I’m upset! N-not really at least… I know why he’s mad, but I can’t explain myself all that well. I don’t know if there even is an explanation.” He let out a slow breath, looking like he was on the verge of tears. He wrapped his arms around himself, rubbing slightly. “I’m so messed up.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, got it?” Shawn assured him worryingly, getting up and making his way over to the shorter of the two. He hugged him from behind, eliciting a small, sharp, inhale. Willy’s breath caught in his throat, and he trembled. A sob caught in his lungs, and Shawn whispered reasurances and gently kissed his shoulder and the back of his neck. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah… yeah, it’s okay,” Willy repeated, but he didn’t really sound convinced at all. His voice shook slightly, and he shrank into himself. “Shawn?”

“Hm?”

“Can I tell you something, something very… difficult and,” he swallowed, pulling away from Shawn’s embrace. He tugged on the cuffs of his ink and coffee stained shirt nervously. “It’s something that is very painful, and I don’t want it to push you away.”

“You can tell me anything,” he gently said, taking the other’s hands in his own, giving a quick squeeze. A fluctuating and cautious smile flashed over Willy’s face before forlornity repossessed it. Willy sucked in a breath, pulling away his hands to undo his cuffs, and rolled up his sleeves. As he was in the process, Shawn narrowed his eyes as he noticed something… off. When Willy finished, he outheld his arms, and Shawn felt himself gasp despite himself, eyes widening. He reached out a hand, retracting it slightly, if Willy didn’t want to be touched. Shawn looked intently at Willy’s expression. Willy stared at his arms with a look of contempt and shallow emptiness. Lines just a shade lighter than Willy’s dark tone were etched up and down his arms, mostly on his left arm. Fresh bandages, put on sloppily but obviously with experience gave Shawn the hunch that Willy had put them on himself, possibly with Wally yelling at him. Willy opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Tears flooded Shawn’s eyes, coming very close to a tidal wave spilling from his eyes, as Willy let his left sleeve unfurl as he put that hand on Shawn’s shoulder, eyes shut. This explained so much; the self deprecating jokes, the willingness to do anything for his brother, the exhaustion, why Willy had a hard time smiling, why he didn’t apply immediately, his insecurity, his recklessness in risking his life for the sake of others, his fear of losing those closest, trust issues — everything. He shook his head with conviction after a few short moments. “Willy Franks-” he said, choking up as his tears began dripping down his cheeks, “I love you. So damn much.”

“Yeah, ri-MMPH!” Willy began to retort, but Shawn’s lips covered his own before he could get two words across. Shawn didn’t care about or notice the stains covering Willy’s clothing, all that mattered was that Willy was hurting, and Shawn needed to do something, anything to help. So he kissed him, and held him, and dared not let go. He felt Willy loosen little by little, his other hand going to rest on his back. It felt like years could have passed in that kiss, but when they pulled back, it felt like it wasn’t nearly long enough. Willy rested his head against Shawn’s collarbone, breathing slow and steady. “I’m sorry, Shawn.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Shawn genteelly admonished him, rubbing circles on his back, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Absolutely nothing. You’re perfect.”

“I don’t know if you got the message,” Willy sighed, and a loving passion flared within Shawn. He pushed Willy against the support beam he had leaned on previously. He hovered over his neck. “S-Shawn?”

“I’m going to kiss you until you admit you’re a work of art,” he muttered, glazing his teeth over Willy’s neck. “Believe me, I will. Understood?”

“How am I going to admit anything if you’re kissing me?” Willy challenged, covering up his rising apprehension. His blood went freezing cold and boiling hot at the same time as Shawn laughed breathily. “Huh?”

“You’re forgetting that there’s more than one way to kiss someone,” Shawn reminded him, and licked his neck, making Willy gasp. His skin tasted like lavender and sugar. One of Willy’s hands flew to the back of Shawn’s head, and the other slipped down his chest. “Admit it. You’re a masterpiece, and if there’s something about you you don’t like, ya can always paint over it.”

“Hngh, mh, please,” Willy huffed, breathing erratic. Shawn didn’t stop his sucking on and kissing Willy’s neck. His hands clawed Shawn’s shirt, and he bit his lip. “I… I, Shaaawn, I-I can’t! Nngh, I’m not, Shawn. please! I’m nothing!”

“No yer fe*kin’ not,” Shawn growled, “Yer a masterpiece. Say it. C’mon.”

Willy pushed himself against the support beam, gasping. How? How could Shawn say something like that? It was glaringly obvious! How? He was noth-ugh…. Willy forced his eyes to stay open, to avoid sinking into bliss and acceptance. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold his resolve out much longer, and decided to preserve what dignity he had left by stating what was wanted without sobbing it in a blithering mess of tears. He sucked in a breath to regain some composure.

“I… I’m… oh G-d, Shawn, I’m a… I’m a masterpiece.”

“See? Yer damn right you are,” Shawn soothingly said, but with pride tingling and mingling with his tone. He gave Willy a quick kiss on the lips, nuzzling him afterwards. Willy let out the air pent up within him, leaning into Shawn’s touch. “I know it’s hard to admit something like that when all yer flaws seem to be in high contrast, but you can always change. I can help yo—”

“Willy!” Wally’s voice broke through the walkie talkie placed on Shawn’s desk, ruining the moment. Willy let out a sigh and sent back a beep to indicate he was listening. “Okay, right now, huge ink spill, level L. I need you to come down and help me clean it.”

  
“On my way,” Willy ventured, hiding his inner turmoil with such an astounding perfection, Shawn nearly fell over in surprise. Willy gave him a kiss on the cheek before stepping into the moving shelves. A nervous energy gripped Shawn as the feeling something was amiss settled in his stomach. He leapt onto some giant plushies a floor below and jogged to catch up to Willy, who had reached the stairs. He glanced back, a smile flashing. “Oh, hey Shawn, long time no see.”

“Yeah, just wanted to make sure yer good,” Shawn chuckled, nearing Willy, who was about to keep moving. A glare caught Shawn’s eye, and he glanced at the floor. His eyebrows rose in surprise. His thoughts blasted though his mind. ‘Wally! No! He wouldn’t!’ But he would, and that was the biggest problem. “Willy, look out!”

It was too late, and Willy had already stepped on the oiled wood, sliding forward alarmingly. Shawn lunged to grab him from falling, but he was just out of reach, and he fell down the oaken stairs, slamming into the wall. As he stood, he seemed to realize that his boots were still slick with oil, and he pitched forward once more, landing at the foot of the steps with an audible splash. Shawn saw red, and he ran down to see Willy lifting himself out of a basin of ink. Wally stood leaning against the wall, rolling a paintbrush around in his fingers with a smirk. A half empty bottle of oil was beside him, as was a wrench which he most likely used to open a pipe to gather the ink. As Shawn helped Willy up, he noticed the effort the younger man was putting into not crying. Righteous fury swept into him, and he stood at his full height of five foot nine inches, glaring down at Wally. His bright blue eyes almost seemed a toxic green, and Wally’s lazy grin faltered as he took a step back.

“You idiot!” he seethed, so loud that the entire floor he was on heard, as did the floors above and below. Wally took a few more steps back, alarmed. “Do you not understand you’re hurting him!? In more than one way, too! Fe*kin’ apologize! NOW!”

At this point, everyone had gathered around the staircase to hear the going ons. Wally stammered some excuse, but Shawn cut him off.

“I don’ want ta ‘ear it!” he thundered. Wally shrank back. “You’ve been acting like a stuck up prick the whole damn day, bossing yer brother around like a dog!”

“I-It’s fine, Shawn, it doesn’t matter,” Willy attempted to placate him. It only made him more angered at Wally. He reflected the Irishman’s previous words at him, in hope of soothing his temper. “It’s okay!”

“No it ain’t!” he snarled, keeping his gaze locked on Wally, as though he were his prey. Everyone could feel the heat of his anger come off him in crashing, waves, a tsunami compared to his usual petty agitation. He punched the wall in his frustration with Wally, cracking the wood, breaking in a hole. “Say yer damn sorry and mean it!”

“Willy,” Wally hesitatingly began, rubbing his arms and staring at the floor. “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been acting like a jerk…” he looked up at his brother, and seeing him, everloving and always patient, taking Wally’s unnecessary and cruel actions like a superhero, he understood. Tears filled his eyes, and he ran to hug his brother. He was crying. Willy began crying. “I’m so sorry! I was mad, an’ I wasn’t really thinking things through how I should’ve!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” murmured Willy, “and probably won’t be the last time, either. We’re brothers. We’re human. We get mad. It’s okay.”

  
“But this time it’s not really,” Wally pressed, squeezing his brother tighter. Then he pulled away, a gleam in his eyes. “I’ll make it up to ya. Stay home tomorrow. I’ve got it. In fact, take the rest of the day off, too. You deserve it. You’re literally the best person on the face of the Earth, and I’ve been slacking off and neglectin’ my role as the big brother. Do you forgive me? Awkward sibling hug?”

“Of course I forgive you, you’re basically me,” Willy smiled a little, nudging his now dejected brother. He opened his arms wide. “Awkward sibling hug.”

Tears burst forth in Wally’s eyes, and he surged forward.

“Pat pat,” they said together in a monotone. A wail broke out from amid the somehow amassed crowd.

“They’re the best brothers ever,” Susie sobbed, leaning on Allison’s shoulder.

“I know,” Allison cried back, rubbing Susie’s back. “I know.”


End file.
